


We Give Our Gratitude

by jkkitty



Series: Thanksgiving [1]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 13:30:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jkkitty/pseuds/jkkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Thanksgiving dinner is put on hold, until everyone is safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Give Our Gratitude

Josephina Kuryakin, a Section Two UNCLE agent, was about to face the hardest challenge she had ever faced, and what made matters worse was that she had volunteered for it.

She had invaded Thrush strongholds, defeated the enemy, faced the KBG and worked as a GRU agent, however today she was going to cook her first Thanksgiving dinner for her brother, friends, and her lover so this dinner needed to go just right.

Napoleon Solo, UNCLE's Northwestern CEA, came out of the bedroom in the robe she kept there for him, running his hand through his hair and Lapis the kitten Illya had given her following him batting at the robes ties.

Catching her around the waist he said, "What are you doing up at five in the morning, _moya lyubov_ ?"

"Out of the kitchen," she shooed him, "I have to start dinner."

"My dear dinner isn't until eight o'clock tonight and you have plenty of time. Now come back to bed." He tried to entice her by moving her hair off her neck and brushing his lips across it.

"I need to do this perfectly. I became a spy so I did not have to be a cook, now look where loving you has gotten me. I am becoming a homemaker," Jo said as she pushed him out of the way grabbing the cookbook off the table.

Napoleon took it from her hands.

"Come on _moĭ russkiĭ shpion_ (my Russian spy), if you start the turkey now it'll be over cooked and dry. I promised to help you later and I'll do it but at a more reasonable hour. Now come back to bed." He led her back into the bedroom.

"What time does Illya arrive?" Her brother was expected in early this morning from a courier mission in Spain and he would be joining them.

"He's landing at ten and being picked up by two Section Three agents. Waverly wasn't taking any chances with the information he's carrying."

Jo snuggled up to Napoleon and closed her eyes, "What time do we have to start dinner then?"

"Around noon, now my love, I can think of things to do before that time," he grinnedat her then leaned down kissing her.

….

Illya Kuryakin deplaned and headed toward the agents waiting for him at the end of the passenger pick up area.

He was tired and hungry. The simple courier mission had gone wrong, and just getting on the plane had presented problems. At least he was back in New York and within a few hours would be at Jo's apartment sharing the American holiday of Thanksgiving with his sister and friends.

Jo had made him promise to be there, and he knew how much it meant to her.

Family holidays were always important when they were children before their lives in the Ukraine were destroyed during the War.

After their assignment in Kiev, they had decided to resurrect some of their family customs and start a few of their own with Napoleon who was now the man in his sister's life.

A shower, some breakfast then a short nap and then he would join them. He was thinking about later in the day when suddenly he saw the two agents go for their guns. Pulling his own, he glanced around seeing a few of the local Thrush coming his way.

Because he was focused on the agents in front of him, he never saw the person with the wheelchair coming from behind him. He felt the dart just as the chair hit his leg, knocking him into it as he black out.

His two colleagues were unable to help him as they were busy fighting off a group of Thrush agents who had surrounded them. By the time the UNCLE agents could freed themselves, Illya was gone. …. Jo was stuffing the turkey when Napoleon's communicator beeped. The glare that he received from her let him know that she wouldn't be happy if he were sent on assignment.

"Solo here," he answered smiling at her and blowing her a kiss.

"Mr. Solo report to headquarters immediately," Waverly's voice left no room for discussion before he signed off.

"No not today?" Jo moaned, "I have so much food already cooking!"

"I promise to be back as soon as I can. Besides Illya will be here to help eat it, so nothing will go to waste."

She looked so crestfallen that Napoleon couldn't resist giving a kiss on her nose. "I'll be back and bring your wayward brother with me. Just keep on cooking," he said as he threw on his coat and left. ….

Illya became aware of his surroundings slowly. Keeping his eyes closed he listened to determine what and who was around him. He could feel that his chest, arms and legs were bound to a chair, shirt was removed and patches were dotting his chest." 'Normal' he thought to himself

"Open your eyes, Mr. Kuryakin, I know you are awake, your increasing heart beat and breathing gave you away," a sweet gentle voice urged.

His eyes opened slowly, anticipating the headache that he knew would come upon him with a vengeance.

"Could your organization please find a drug that does not give a headache as its side effect," he complained to the beautiful woman who stood before him.

"I will give your suggestion to Thrush Central the next time I talk to them," she smiled at him, "Now the information please."

"Why? If I give it to you, then you will kill me; if I do not you will kill me. Unless you mean to offer me a deal, I do not think I will help you, since the end result will be the same," he said as he stalled for time.

The agents at the airport would have notified headquarters of his abduction, and the tracer he had on him would lead them to this location.

She chuckled the spoke, "Now Mr. Kuryakin, I won't insult you by claiming I'll free you but I'll promise a quick death if you give me what I want. Otherwise, I'll have to use methods you won't enjoy to get it and in the end you will die regardless."

Ignoring her question, he glanced at her long gown. "I didn't realize that interrogation is a formal affair now,"

"I have a dinner to attend so let's talk turkey Mr. Kuryakin, shall we," she said.

"I would prefer to be eating one, if you do not mind?" He retorted.

"Your sense of humor is not appreciated Mr. Kuryakin," she said angrily. She grabbed a handful of blond hair and pulled his head back sharply slapping him across his face. "We searched you while you were unconscious and didn't find the information, now where is it? If you don't tell me and I have to miss my dinner, you will be very sorry." He looked at her and laughed saying softly in Russian, _"_ _Ne tak zhalko , kak ya budu yesli ya ne yavilsya na uzhin Dzho." (Not as sorry as I will be if I do not show up for Jo's dinner._ )

"Mr. Kuryakin do you recognized the type of chair you are in?" she asked suddenly changing the subject.

He looked at it then smiled. "An electric one I assume."

"True with a few modifications that we've made. Instead of killing you immediately it'll cook you slowly by raising the temperature of your body until you're roasted."

"To keep with the season?" he asked with an innocent look on his face. She switched it on and sitting back, waiting for him to talk.

….

Jo opened the door beating the corn bread batter letting April in to help with dinner. "Where is Mark?"

"He was called into headquarters, but don't worry he said to tell you that he'll be here." April told her.

Jo set down the batter she was mixing on the end table in the living room, "Okay April what is going on? I am not stupid. You are here, Mark and Napoleon are suddenly called to headquarters and no one is telling me anything. It is Illya, is it not?"

April knew she couldn't keep the truth from her.

"He was abducted when he arrived at the airport." She moved closer to her. "They'll find him."

Jo picked up the bowl of batter, beating it furiously, focusing only on the bowl and what she was doing.

"What can I do?" April asked as she followed Jo to the kitchen knowing that keeping her busy was the only way to deal with the concern that they both were feeling.

…. Napoleon and Mark arrived at Waverly's office together. But as they entered, Napoleon was surprised not to see Illya seated at the table.

"Sit down gentlemen. My information from Spain is missing and I need it back. You two will retrieve it."

"The information Illya was bringing in sir?" Napoleon asked taking notice of Waverly's attitude toward the missing information.

"Mr. Kuryakin is the information," he informed them. "He memorized the data because of its sensitive nature. We couldn't afford to allow it to fall into the hands of Thrush."

"Do we have any idea where they've taken him?" Mark asked.

"He had a tracer placed under his skin before leaving Spain and it's still working. Gentlemen, I needn't tell you how urgent his retrieval is. He's not expendable at this time."

The two agents left immediately. Once outside headquarters they followed the tracer to Fort Hill estate located in Lloyd Neck out on Long Island Sound. A deep water-dock took up much of the front of the building and the formal garden offered little coverage on the two sides. Only the woodlands behind the estate gave protection for their approach.

They knew that getting in was only part of the problem as there were at least 40 rooms in the main building where they could be keeping Illya, in addition to the possibility that he could be in one of the numerous outer buildings.

As they moved closer to the main building, the tracer decreased in its intensity. However, the signal from the tracer increased as they approached a smaller building towards the edge of the woods, indicating that this seemed to be the location where their friend was being held.

They approached the structure with guns quietly drawn when a female voice from within droning on about missing dinner if the stubborn Russian didn't talk soon.

"Sounds like Illya's making friends and influencing people again," Napoleon whispered to Mark.

"That man does seem to upset people. Maybe we should get him out of here before he does something to really disturb them?"

Mark went low while Napoleon went high, crashing through the door. No one inside the room moved. "Lower your weapons!" Mark ordered.

With a wave of his gun, Napoleon indicated that the three Thrush agents should proceed to the rear corner away from the machine and his partner.

"Turn that machine off!" Illya shouted motioning with his head toward the control panel behind the chair.

Napoleon switched it off then went to free his partner.

"What is this thing?"

"A people roaster," the woman answered.

"Who's your cook?" he asked as he removed the last binding from Illya's leg. He could see that his partner was suffering from damage that the machine had already caused.

Illya was profusely sweating, his leg muscles were quivering, and he seemed to be having trouble hold his head up without the help of his hands.

"Not funny Napoleon. We were never introduced," Illya grumbled weakly as he stood up from the chair, where he immediately sagged into his partner's arms from weakness and lightheadedness.

Napoleon turned his gun on the woman once Illya was standing by himself. "And you are?"

"My name is Miss Meleagris."

Illya groaned after hearing her name. "You cannot be serious," he shook his head not believing it.

"What is it tovarisch?"

"Meleagris is the genus of the turkey bird," he explained.

Given that was Thanksgiving, Napoleon and Mark couldn't hold in their laughter as they cuffed Miss Meleagris and the two men working with her.

"Really Illya, I wasn't expecting a cooked Kuryakin for supper," Napoleon teased his partner.

One glance at Illya's menacing look stopped Mark from making any comments as they herded their prisoners toward the door.

….

The smell of food spread throughout the apartment but Jo and April were ignoring. Jo was unconsciously petting the kitten, while April was trying to read a book. Then a knock at the door brought them to their feet.

Jo hurried to it and after ensuring that it was safe, she opened it to let in Napoleon, Mark, and Illya. The men had called to let the women know they would be there as soon as Illya's debriefing was finished and medical released him.

After the table was set, April called everyone in. There were yams, potatoes, breads, cranberry sauce, corn, and a turkey with gravy and stuffing. Pies and cakes for dessert lined the kitchen counter along with the coffee, tea, and wine.

"Let's eat before it becomes foul," Mark smiled as he finally said the joke he had been holding in since Illya's rescue.

The moans from the other agents let him know that it had fallen flat. Before they started to eat, Jo took the hand of her brother on one side and the man she loves on the other side with each person gathered there following her lead taking the hand of the person next to them.

"Oh Lord You have blessed us with this feast, good friends and love. We thank you for friends that share our sorrows, tears, and loneliness. Bless those gathered here with health and a long life, Amen."

Each agent spent a moment giving their private thanks for those gathered around them before digging into the bountiful feast in front of them.

Once more one of their numbers almost lost their life to the path they had chosen to follow. Call it fate, luck, or skill they were all able yet another time to give thanks that they could share this special meal together.

Although what happened earlier in the day to Illya was not forgotten, the laughter and friendship soon made it fade away for now.


End file.
